The Tree and Me

There's a tree just outside my window;
It has a papery, peeling back bark.
The branches are many and so slender,
I think it may be a gossamer tree.

All winter I watched it dazzle with rain;
Streetlights shimmered through it's many prisms.
Today these teardrops are light green leaves
And fuzzy fingers that are, with pollen, pregnant .

I can see the gull's flight through this veil;
I can peak through at the sky and the sea.
This lone tree feels like an intimate friend,
Placed outside this window, just for me.

Reflecting on Reflections

It is impossible to be out in nature and to experience total darkness. Even the darkest night is aglow with the moon, stars, glow worms, and fireflies. We may not see them through the clouds, but we know they are always there. I may choose to enter a cave, or sleep in a dense rain forest, but the light always beacons me to come out and dance. Light is like that; you can never fully quench it because something will always hold onto a bit and reflect it back when you're ready to see again.

Water and sky reflect each other as the moon reflects the sun, and at the farthest point on the horizon, they become one. This is the a perfect example of circle of life. The water that makes up the clouds is only a little time away from it's source. Or is it that the source is only a little while a part of this earth?

This is a most wondrous thing about our environment. We can never really know when one thing ends and its alter egos begin. And it all begins with a breath of warm hitting a breath of cool raining down on us the essence of life on earth. Makes me really believe in a Source of Creation that can only be comprehended as "The Breath of Life" or as "The Light".

Redefining Duty

I have come back to Louisiana
Where who I am took shape.
I can sift my thoughts much better
With the churning of the lake.

Coker Creek gold is found in
The sifting and swirling of sand.
But the treasure is only recognized
In an expert's patient hands.

I've moved from mom to matriarch
To the chagrin of family and friends
This is where caretaker ends,
And my teacher self begins.

I've done my time doing duty
As cook, laundress, and sitter.
I now am ready to foster
Networks that are much bigger.

I've chosen some who know the ways
Of this set of family values.
These are people that I trust
Not to, vulnerability, abuse.

I can't say with certainty
Who will accept the challenge.
I can say I'd rather live alone
Than to live in eternal revenge.

Babysitting the Boys

We were with a couple on Mardi Gras who thought they were almost finished with babysitters when they conceived another child after the mother's forty-eighth birthday. The toddler seemed to be doing a good job of keeping the parents young, at least at heart. I marvel at the people who have babies late in life. Our old bones can't do nearly what they did when our grandkids were little.

We babysat our two great nephews, H and G, last night. Sometimes I wonder how siblings can seem completely unrelated. H was cautious from the beginning, even shy about leaving the womb. He had been in there so long already that he looked more like a wizened old man than a bouncing baby. The nursery attendant commented to us that he was an "old baby". He continues that caution as he heads to his fourth birthday. Even his smile is slow and shy.

H likes to build with Lincoln Logs and watch videos; he also likes to play Nerf football. Uncle Richard and he had lots to keep them occupied. With me, he likes to practice writing his a,b,c's, and have books read to him. I'm also hoping he'll like cooking, as soon as we get a step stool.

His almost two-year-old brother, on the other hand, is always raring to go. He spent his first months mad that he couldn't make his own decisions. Now, he goes about his business with great confidence and determination, rarely stopping to ask permission. He even walks with a confident attitude, swinging his little arm as if to say, "If you don't move, I'll move you." He knows what he's allowed to do, and will correct mistakes we make. He made a point of closing the toilet lid and the bathroom door, presumably to keep himself away from temptation.

G enjoys action. He doesn't care where the football goes, as long as he can chase it. Eating is an adventure, as he maneuvers himself up and down on the jungle gym of dining chairs, balancing his bowl and a cup. The most fun he had was chasing the beam from the flashlight, as he moved it like Tinker Bell around the walls, ceiling, and furniture. G loves to laugh.

Both boys are well-mannered, which makes them fun to be around. It's so much nicer to watch children that begin with a sense of boundaries. The knowledge that we're part of their parents' adventure in family living gives us great pleasure. We've missed that, now that our children are so seldom in need of sitters.

Leading Into Lent

We met a milliner on Mardi Gras;
For the opera she makes hats.
We also met a descendant of Emily Post;
Now, what do you think of that?

The opera milliner was a beautiful being,
With hair like seaweed in red.
Her bosom was covered in a brocade
Of gold and a color that scarlet bred.

The younger version of Emily Post
Was a creature quite serene;
She was probably the most polished
Of the people that we'd seen.

There were babies and toddlers
Enjoying themselves with dance;
While their grandparents who invited us
Were sharing a bit of romance.

The people outside who were on parade
Had many statements to make;
Some of them seemed to be sincere;
Some of them seemed quite fake.

This is the way of Mardi Gras,
Where everyone is free
To act as they want to act,
And be who they want to be.

It does scare some people
To see all this played out
It makes some folks question
What their own lives are all about.

For me and my man, it's entertainment
Maybe this is why, to here we were sent.
We're happy living responsible lives.
Now onto the season of Lent...

Being on Bourbon Street

Mardi Gras on Bourbon Street
Where our good and our bad selves compete.
We scheduled time to take off our masks,
And take a break from our responsible tasks.
With friends with whom we're well-fed and warm,
Who keep us from doing any permanent harm.

So nice to be there for the pageant,
Knowing that tomorrow we will all repent
Of any indiscretions that we committed,
And the temptations against which we were pitted.
Then back to work, with a smile we go,
Glowing with memories of the fantasy show.

I can't trust myself to be alone around
The people who see me as hero or clown.
When I fly too high, my friends talk me down;
They hold onto me till my feet touch the ground.
They stabilize my life like a tail on a kite,
Until I'm ready to come down from my flight.

Our network here doesn't create a fuss
When we are being our very most us.
Here is where he can be his most he
And I can be my very most me.
New Orleans is a place that accepts
That none of us were born to be rejects.

Here is home, and here we'll stay;
The pressure elsewhere gets in the way
Of us doing what we were meant to do.
The quiet was killing us, but who knew?
It feels so good to be back home,
Where we never again will feel alone.

The Need for Networks

My man is off on his daily rounds of volunteerism, honoring those who fought for our freedom. My friends, for the most part, work hard for their money. The young parents only want my availability intermittently, as they are also either learning how to earn or already earning their daily dollars. It almost makes me long for the days when women were stay-at-home homemakers, but not quite.

Here's the problem with being available: There are too many hours in the day. I've had many tell me that I spend too much time thinking, and maybe they're correct. But I don't know what else to do as the dishes are done, the laundry is folded, and I wait for someone to say they need my assistance. It would be different if there was a schedule of when, where, and how people wanted a piece of another, but this isn't how relationships work.

This is why networks are so important. For the sake of all involved, we agree to a common purpose and a set of boundaries. We then hold the network together by walking together in rhythm. We just have to be careful that the drum major is in tune with our overall purpose. We also have to have back-ups when the drum major falters or falls out of rhythm with our dedicated direction. And we have to be extra careful to stay aware of and accountable for each others' moves. I'm simply sick of solitude, and I don't want to spend all my time with only women and children.

The problem in networks is that we are led to believe that there are few people who are sexually or spiritually strong when any attraction calls. Since the sexual revolution, it seems that no matter the relationship between two people, we see sex as the only reason to, as Kahlil Gibran says so eloquently, "protect, and touch and greet each other". In our world, when any two people have a partnership, we automatically assume the sexual.

Love does indeed consist in this, "That two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other". And, to paraphrase a commonly used description of marriage, "As it was in the beginning, is now, until the end, we all draw our lives from others and give it back again".

Not all of us are meant to marry in the sexual sense, and even if we were, not all marriage is sexual. All of us need human communion; from this we draw our lives and give them back again. This is why Adam's prayer for Eve was answered. Otherwise, we'd all be visited upon the earth as manna from heaven, without mother, father, sister or brother. I'd like us to acknowledge that not all soul mating is sexual, as not all sexual mating is of the soul.